Jay Asher - The Future of Us

At my feet there’s a red plastic bag from Comix Relief. I nudge it over with my sneaker to keep from stepping on it.

“I picked those up for my dad,” she says. “It’s his birthday this weekend, so I bought a few of his favorite Archie comics.”

“I used to be an Archie freak,” I say.

She laughs. “Figures.”

“Why? Because we both have red hair?”

“I didn’t even think of that,” she says. “But I’m convinced all guys secretly worship Archie. He’s this average boy with two beautiful girls fighting over him. Don’t tell me that’s not every guy’s fantasy.”

One beautiful girl would be enough for me.

“Both of my sisters’ fiancés collect comics,” she continues. “Sometimes my dad tags along when they attend conventions, but they’re more into the mutant and superhero comics. Personally, I think the good guys like Archie.”

She is such a daddy’s girl. It’s kind of cute. I wonder if they’ll still be going to comic conventions when I join the family. Even though it would be cheesy, I’d go along.

We stop at a light and Sydney turns toward me. “Thank you for what you said in class the other day, about being considerate.”

“Human decency,” I say, groaning.

She nods and eases onto the gas. “I know you were just speaking your mind, but in a way it felt like you were defending me. So thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

Sydney smiles as she pushes her hair behind her ear. “Anyway, I’m excited about these time-shares. You get to spend a few weeks a year at some of the coolest locations in the world. Have you ever been to Acapulco? We went in February and it was beautiful.”

Acapulco? That’s one of the places Sydney and I go in the future. Does this slideshow she’s about to see lead to time-shares where we take our vacations?

“Have you ever been to Waikiki?” I ask. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

Sydney looks over at me, her eyes wide. “They have time-shares in Waikiki! Okay, now I really want my parents to buy in. They even have jumbo condos where it could be a family reunion every time we go.”

Waikiki. Acapulco. When I read about Sydney and my vacations, I imagined we’d be alone, drinking fruity drinks and having sex in exotic locations. Now it seems like our trips involve a house overflowing with her family. Not that I wouldn’t go. As long as I get time alone with Sydney, I’m there.

Up ahead, the road gradually rises where it meets the train tracks.

“Do you know what to do when you drive over train tracks?” Sydney asks.

“Of course,” I say.

As the car bumps over the tracks, we both lift our feet off the floor.

“Feet-up-a-loo!” I shout.

Sydney laughs as the road descends. “Feet-up-a-what?”

“Feet-up-a-loo,” I say, my face getting warm. “Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t think so,” Sydney says, smiling. “Everyone knows you lift your feet and make a wish.”

I’m tempted to ask her what she wished for, but maybe I don’t want to know. Or maybe I do, but if she tells me it won’t come true.

AFTER DROPPING KELLAN OFF, I drive along the east side of Wagner Park, heading home.

If Kellan says she has no use for condoms, then she’s not even anticipating going all the way soon. When I get home, I need to tell Josh everything so we can figure out what to do. I just hope he’s gotten over today’s ego kick.

After the stoplight, I turn up the block toward my house. A white convertible is parked at the curb by Josh’s house. It’s Sydney’s car! And Josh is in the passenger seat.

As I go past them and pull into my driveway, I can almost hear Sydney’s voice saying, “Is that Emma Nelson?” I bet Josh won’t tell her we’ve been friends since we were little. And that omission will be the first stone in the wall he builds around his precious life with Sydney.

I reach into my backseat for the swimsuits and towels, and then step outside, slamming the car door much harder than I intended.

* * *

ONCE I GET TO MY ROOM, I look out the window. Sydney’s convertible is still there. Josh tells her something and she laughs like he’s the funniest guy in the world.

I peel off my sandy clothes, toss them into the laundry basket, and then pull on my robe. When Josh comes up here, I want to immediately check Facebook and see how everything that happened today affected our futures. I bet as soon as Sydney drives away, he’ll be knocking at my door.

To get ready, I dial up to AOL. While my computer beeps and crackles, I go back to the window.

Sydney leans over and kisses Josh on the cheek, and then he climbs out of the car. As she drives off, Josh gives her a two-fingered salute. Now that’s annoying. I pull away from the window and walk back to my computer. If he’s going to move forward with Sydney, then I don’t have to keep up my end of the pact.

I enter my email and password to log in to Facebook.

Emma Nelson Storm

What is a marine biologist supposed to do in

Columbus, Ohio, anyway?

4 hours ago · Like · Comment

Life looks about the same as yesterday. I’m tempted to take a peek at Kellan or search for Josh before he gets here, but I’ll wait. That’s what friends do. They keep their word.

I spin around in my chair. Where is he?

Finally, I can’t help myself. I locate Kellan in my Friends column, and click her name.

Kellan Steiner

Lindsay and I are eating Swedish meatballs at Ikea.

She agreed to see the Rolling Stones 50^th anniversary

tour with me. I love my kid!

May 19 at 3:03pm · Like · Comment

Lindsay’s still there! Okay, now I have to talk to Josh.

I look out the window. Josh is sitting on his lawn, facing the park. I click back to my webpage on Facebook, knot the belt in my robe, and hurry down the stairs.

THERE’S A BREEZE blowing through the trees over in the park, and the air is getting cooler. I fit a blade of grass between my thumbs and blow. Sitting still and whistling through grass has always soothed me, but it drives Emma crazy. Sometimes I do it just to irritate her.

Recently, it’s been way too easy to irritate Emma.

When she pulled up to her house a few minutes ago, she ignored Sydney and me. Not that I expected her to run over, but a wave in our direction would’ve felt less intentionally rude. To give her the benefit of the doubt, I’ll assume she didn’t want to interrupt my time with Sydney.

* * *

“JOSH!”

Emma is stomping across her front lawn, her arms folded against her chest. She seems pissed, which looks silly since she’s barefoot and wearing a fluffy white bathrobe.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey?” Emma stares down at me. “I assumed you would come up to my room the moment you got home. See, we have this thing called Face—”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know you were up there waiting.” I hold the blade of grass to my lips and blow.

“Stop that!”

I bite the inside of my cheeks to keep from smiling. “Did you see who dropped me off?”

Emma stuffs her hands into the floppy pockets of her robe. “A lot has happened today… for both of us. I think we need to make sure everything’s still okay.”

That’s definitely true. Emma dumped Graham and then hung out with Cody in the hallway. Anna Bloom wrote her number on my folder. Sydney Mills gave me a ride home. While I’m curious to find out how everything affected Emma’s future, I’m actually nervous about my own.

I grab my backpack and kick my skateboard into my hand. “I’m willing to check out your future,” I say, following Emma, “but I want to skip mine.”

“Skip yours?” Emma glances back at me. “You don’t want to know what that little road trip did to your future?”

The wind chimes hanging on her porch are clinking loudly.

“Sydney driving me home didn’t change anything,” I say, leaning my skateboard against the railing.

Emma tips her head and looks me in the eyes. Without a word, her message is clear: We’ll see about that.

* * *

WHEN WE GET TO HER ROOM, Emma grabs a change of clothes and disappears down the hall. She returns a minute later wearing small white shorts and a red V-neck shirt. Loose curls spill around her face and neck, but her shoulders are stiff with tension.

I set my backpack on the floor at the foot of her bed.

“Why were you wearing a robe before?” I ask.

Emma sits at her computer with her back to me. “I was about to take a shower because Kellan and I were at the lake. She needed to talk. So, like the good friend that I am, I went with her.”

Is she insinuating that I’m not a good friend?

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I don’t remember you saying you needed to talk.”

“I was trying to talk to you all day!” Emma says. “But you were either flirting with random girls or arguing with me at lunch.”

The last person who should be lecturing me about flirting is Emma. But she’s right. I never asked her how she was doing today. Both of us are trying to figure out so much, yet I was only concerned with my own life.

I stand beside Emma as she clicks the word “Friends.” She scrolls past several rows of photos, and then slows down when she reaches the C names. She sighs heavily when Cindy Freeburg is followed by Corbin Holbrook, whoever those people are. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out who she was hoping to find.